by Aubrey Irons
“You better believe it.”
She stares at him for a second before she shakes her head in disgust; “Fuck you.” She whirls on her heel and storms out of the room.
“Jesus, Donald,” I mutter, standing as well and glowering at him; “I mean she hates the guy-”
“You know, Hudson,” Donald interrupts, his eyes narrowing at me; “I see what you’re doing, and you’re not going to ruin this for me.”
I furrow my brow; “For you?”
“For the campaign.” He mutters, but I know what he means, and it puts me instantly on edge; “We both want the same thing for the campaign, Hudson.”
“For Reagan, you mean.”
He shrugs; “A campaign is a campaign; I’d have figured a big important business man like yourself would understand that,” he says with a sneer. “Reagan makes a great figurehead for that campaign, but it’s the run that’s important here.”
“You mean it doesn’t matter if she wins or not, as long as the campaign is good?” My voice starts to rise as I shake my head in disgust at him. Because then you become the next wizard campaign manager for putting a twenty three year old girl up for a New York Senate seat and running a ‘good campaign’, even if she doesn’t win.
“I don’t expect one of William’s army buddies to understand.”
“Marines, dick.”
Donald shakes his head; “Regardless, it’s nothing you’d understand. If Archer Holdings wants to finance the campaign, that’s great. And if they think you need to somehow protect her like some sort of bodyguard, fine, I’m even ok with that too.” He frowns and takes another step towards me before he sticks his finger out and pokes me in the chest; “But if you think there’s anything else for you here, I’m here to tell you that you are sorely mistaken.”
“Fuck you, Donald.”
“Look, you’re here to protect an investment, right?” He frowns at me again; “So do your fucking job. ‘Protect the investment’ doesn’t mean suddenly deciding you know more about running a candidate than I do, ok?”
“You’re pushing her too hard.”
“She’ll adapt and she’ll mold into what she needs to be.”
I shake my head at him and his mechanical robot answers; “Jesus, Donald; are you fucking serious?”
“Hudson, this isn’t the first time I’ve helped a trust-fund kid play politics you know.”
I can feel my temper start to rage inside, my hands clutching at my side; “We both know she’s a lot more than that.”
Donald just shrugs; “Look, I get it. She’s beautiful, charismatic, magnetic; she’s William’s daughter - I mean really Hudson, I get why you’re following her around like you are.” For a moment I bristle; suddenly wondering if Donald actually knows what’s going on between Reagan and I. “I mean I’m glad you’ve decided to be her friend like you’ve been-” whew, guess not “- and that’s exactly the kind of attraction we’re working for her target demographic.” He looks at me shrewdly; “Don’t fool yourself though, Reagan has an angle here, and that angle is to get elected, not be your pal.”
“Donald, the only one playing shadow angles here is you.” I growl, feeling my jaw tense.
He shrugs; “Look, you want to help her? Keep her locked down; keep her focused on what she needs to do.” He starts to walk out of the room before he pauses and turns at the door; “Stick to the plan, Hudson.” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in this dark library full of ghosts and questions and my own shattered thoughts.
Chapter Sixteen
Reagan
P A S T
“Well I think it’s awesome,” Chelsea says, sipping on her coffee.
“Thanks. I mean it’s just a low-level position for the campaign, but he’s a pretty strong incumbent, so it’ll be great experience to work for his office.”
Chelsea grins, “Dad would’ve loved that you’re getting into politics you know.”
“Not why I’m doing it, but fine.” I mutter.
Chelsea huffs and slaps her hand down hard on the bench we’re camped out on in Central Park; “Ok, honestly, when are you going to let all of that go?”
I scowl and look away from her; “What does it matter?”
“It matters because it’s not healthy to keep letting it eat away at you like that! Ok, fine, we get it! Dad worked a lot, and he missed some stuff, and you’re mad about it!”
“Are you not?” I snap at her.
“We all have regrets, Reagan, but no, I’m not mad at him for working hard, or for Mom dying so young.”
I look away again, wordless and angry.
“He did what he could-”
“Well it wasn’t good enough, now was it!?”
Chelsea’s face tightens as she holds my furious look and shakes her head; “He’s dead, Reagan; you think you can get around to forgiving him now anyways?”
P R E S E N T
Donald is talking about polling points, or something to do with “provisional budgeting,” but I’m honestly not even hearing a word he says. It’s hardly been a handful of hours since what happened back at the house in Greenwich, and while we might be back in the City, my mind is still right back there on that balcony, watching my breath crystalize in the chill of the air as Hudson’s hot mouth devours me-
“Reagan!”
I snap out of my fantasy to see Donald shaking his head and snapping his fingers at me, Erika tut-tuting behind him like some sort of angry schoolmarm.
“I need you to be here, Reagan,” He huffs, his face red; “If you’d rather daydream though, let me know now and I’ll quit wasting my time with this damn campaign.”
I want to snap at him, but in all honestly, I know he’s right. We are way too deep into this campaign for me to be slacking off like this and letting myself be carried away by distractions. Fuck, is that what he is? I mean everything that we said back there at the house was so nakedly honest, and so real, and God did it feel real when his tongue slid into my pussy like that. But, Goddamnit, no! How fucking stupid am I to get involved with Hudson Banks of all freaking people! Never mind the past; the fact that he works for my largest campaign contributor, which I’m already going to get shit for sharing the same name with, is another huge blaring warning sign! I can’t even imagine the shit-storm my run would find itself in if the papers got ahold of the juicy tidbit that I was fucking my campaign contributor!
Well, not fucking yet. Yet; which means there’s still time to end this. I can stop this train wreck now right here before it goes any further; before the risk gets any bigger to the campaign, and to me. There’s too much at stake here, and it’s just not worth it.
Now, if I could just convince myself of that.
“I’m here, I’m sorry Donald.” I let the air out through pursed lips; “Honestly, I think I’m just tired and worn out from the day. You guys mind if we break here so I can go take a shower?”
Donald grumbles but nods as I stand; “Just be ready to hit this tomorrow, ok? You’ve got that interview in the morning, the other one later after lunch, and then the gala event with Congressman Kennedy in the evening.”
“I will.” Because tomorrow, I’m nipping this in the bud with Hudson and putting an end to the distractions.
“Ooo! Don’t forget to use that facial scrub I got you! Reagan!” Erika say something else about cucumbers and tea-tree oil as I roll my eyes and leave them in the conference room.
The hotel we’re staying at in Midtown is exactly the kind of campaign expense I don’t particularly enjoy, even though I know it’s all part of the pageantry of the race. I’ve tried to tell Donald a million times that it’s ridiculous for me to be staying here, seeing as I live barely ten blocks away, but he’s insisted that at this point in my campaign, I need a “headquarters”.
Right; what I need is a stiff drink to give me the courage to figure out what I’m going to say to Hudson. I pause for just a second outside his door, almost tempted to knock on it and just rip the band-aid off right then, but I st
op myself, of course. Tightening the fist I was about to pound on his door with, I walk into my own room and close the door mercifully behind me.
I feel a shiver as I strip off my clothes in the bathroom, still feeling the lingering graces of his touch on my body as I turn on the water. I still have no idea what I'm going to say to him, but I'm bracing myself to do it anyways; it’s the only realistic thing to do at this point.
The shower spray is bliss; hot, sudsy, and steamy to the point where I can just let go a little bit and let it all just take me away. So much so, in fact, that I don’t even hear the door to the bathroom open until it shuts, at which point I practically jump out of my skin. My scream freezes in my throat as he yanks the shower curtain back and smirks at me.
“Hudson!” I gasp, my hands clutching at my chest; “What the fuck!”
He grins wickedly and shushes me.
“Are you fucking insane?!” I husk at him, still meekly covering myself with my hands as if he hasn't seen me naked before; as if he hadn't just had his mouth on my pussy barely hours before; “Donald and Erika are in the conference room right down the hall, get out of here!” I hiss at him through clenched teeth.
He smirks at me; “Well I guess that means you'd better keep quiet then.”
“Hud-”
He pulls off his towel, and he's rock hard, his erection throbbing as he grins at me and steps into the shower with me.
“Hudson, I-” I can feel my resolve cracking; already forgetting all those poetic words I'd been putting together in my head to tell him why we couldn't continue this exact behavior anymore. He's steps close to me, so close I can feel my own body betraying me; warming, and wanting him nearer still.
“We can't- we can't do this-”
“Reagan,” His voice is low and growling; “I'm going to kiss you on the count of five. And if you don't want me to do that, you're going to have to tell me, because after that, you're going to have to stop me.”
Goddamnit, why won't he listen to me! I can't do this, as much as every fiber of my being wants to. He steps closer to me, so close that I can practically feel his skin on mine, though he's still not touching me. The water trickles over his chiseled and inked chest, over the scars and the muscles there.
“Hudson-”
“One.”
“Dammit, get out of the shower!” I whisper noncommittally, barely believing the words myself.
“Two.”
His hand reaches up and he trails his fingertips across the arm I've still got covering my breasts, making me shiver despite the steam from the shower. But we can not fucking do this! It could ruin the whole campaign and everything that I've worked so hard for.
“Three.”
I'm wet; so fucking wet and ready for him that it's making my knees feel weak. But we can't-
“Four.”
“Hudson, shut up.” My resolve crumbles completely and I slide my hands into his hair and kiss him fiercely, as if I'd fly away without my lips on his another second. He growls as his strong arms wrap tightly around me, his hands sliding over my skin and grabbing me as he pulls me tight against his skin. I moan into his mouth, feeling his cock throb hotly pressed between us. His hand slides around over my hip and down between my legs to stroke my clit, and I pull away from his kiss and gasp as I feel him slip his fingers inside of me. I rock against him, whimpering his name as the water cascades over our skin; over his scars and ink and over everything that's ever separated us. I drop my hands to his cock, shuttling my hand up and down his enormous hardness as he curls his fingers inside of me, stroking against that sweet spot. I'm so close as I feel him growl into my neck, and it's taking everything I have not to cry out loud and scream his name as he coaxes me closer and closer to that sweet edge.
He bites my earlobe between his teeth; “Come for me, Reagan. Come for me right now.” When I do scream this time, I muffle it into his shoulder. My whole body shudders against him as my orgasm shatters through me, and I clutch him to me tightly, as if he might float away.
Chapter Seventeen
Hudson
P A S T
It’s the pretending to care that gets old after a while. It’s exhausting really, pretending I’m interested in what they’re saying, or their opinions on the menu, or in them as people when really, I just don’t care. I’m going out with girls because I know I should, and I know it’s something I need to do to get my mind off of her, but it never helps. If anything, it just makes it worse.
A year later, and here I am out with some other redhead who only even vaguely looks like her, who’s chattering at me across the dinner table about - fuck, actually I have no idea. I’m dating because I know a man of my position should be dating cute women in skimpy dresses at fancy restaurants. I mean let’s face it, there’s already enough weird shit about me to make me stand out more than I ever want to; being that weird guy who never goes out or is never seen with a hot girl on his arm is just a reputation I don’t need if I’m trying to blend in.
When I drop her back off at her apartment, she looks at me like I’m completely nuts when I politely decline her invitation to come up for for coffee “and maybe a little cream and sugar”. Besides it being such an over-the-top line, I’m just not interested. I mean shit, the old me would’ve had her dress off halfway up the stairs; hell, the old me would’ve probably fucked her in the bathroom of that 5-star restaurant. But the new me feels pulled in too many directions, and is hounded by too many demons, and is haunted by the memory of the one perfect girl who no one is ever going to replace.
And as I roar away from the redhead’s apartment, I wonder just how in the hell I’m ever going to get Reagan Archer out of my fucking head.
P R E S E N T
We’re giggling like fucking teenager as we stumble out of the shower, barely toweled off and leaving wet footprints across the carpet. She pushes me back in this big stuffed chair by the window of her room, and before I know it, she’s kneeling at my feet. When her lips wrap around my cock, it’s fucking miles better than every single one of the multitude of fantasies I’ve had of this exact moment. Her tongue slides across the underside of me as she begins to gently suck, and I’m just done. I’m gasping for breath with my hands running through her long red hair as she moans and swirls her tongue around me. When I warn her, she only moans louder and sucks me deeper, and I explode inside her mouth as I gasp out her name.
She giggles as she pulls away, wiping her mouth in this way that would look just plain slutty with literally any other girl in the world but her; on her it just looks incredible. She smiles shyly up at me as I try to form words though the fog in my head. Our eyes meet and then I’m pulling her up into my lap and kissing her neck and feeling her whimper softly into my ear.
“You trying to kill me, Red?” I growl, nipping at her earlobe and loving the way it makes her gasp.
“No but I’m starting to see the appeal all those other girls found in you.”
She’s giggling, teasing me, and I groan as bring her lips to mine; “there are no other girls but you, you know that right?” She’s kissing me, and then as her hand drops to my lap she starts to giggle again
“Oh my God-”
“What?”
She laughs- the sound so fucking beautiful and musical; “Hudson-” Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are blushing bright red as she nods at my cock, standing straight up between us; “You’re still, um-” She’s trails off, and I shrug, not being able to help but add in a smug smirk at the fact that I’m still hard. Reagan bites her lip; “Do you- um, do you have one?”
Fuck. Of course I don’t. The old me had them stuffed into every pocket I owned, but of the course the second the new me needs one more than a dying man needs water in the desert, I’m without. She sees the hesitation on my face and smirks as she reaches for her purse on the table next to us; rummaging around before coming out with a little foil packet in her hand and an adorable pink glow to her cheeks. I raise my eyebrows teasingly and she rolls her eyes; “You
should probably check and make sure it isn’t expired.”
She’s grinning at me as our eyes meet, and I feel so fucking close to this girl without even being inside her that it practically knocks the wind out of me. I’m not used to feeling this emotionally exposed with someone; this naked. In fact, even with all the women before, I’m fairy certain in that moment that I’ve never felt quite like this before; the sobering epiphany hits me that this is what making love feels like. She looks at me, so innocently, and so full of need that I’m suddenly terrified of shattering everything that she with the burden of what I carry.
“Reagan, you know we don’t have to do thi-”
“Hudson will you shut up and fuck me already?” She leans down and kisses me, sucking my lip between her teeth, and that pushes me right over the edge.
I tear open the packet and roll the condom down over my length before my hands are grabbing her ass and moving her up to my tip as she squeals. And then I’m feeling her slide down on to me, and it’s like heaven and I could die right here. She’s like warm silk around me as we move together like the movement of an ocean; rocking together like a tide upon a shore. I’m gentle at first, but the way she starts to dig her fingernails into my shoulders and the way she bounces up and down my length making these sexy as hell little cooing sounds has me grabbing her harder and pumping my hips to meet hers. She grinding against me and whimpering as my hands grab the soft skin of her ass hard enough to leave marks as I start to fuck her hard. I can feel her tightening around me, her muscles clutching at me and her mouth hanging open as I kiss her and then slide my lips to ear; “Come for me, Reagan; fucking come for me right now.” I muffle her screams with my mouth this time as she goes to pieces around me, and it’s more than I can take. I see stars as I roar my release into her kiss and explode inside of her.
